


Control

by Moiranna



Series: 50 themes - Vergil & Dante [10]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Death, minor gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6787615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moiranna/pseuds/Moiranna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A single touch can kill. All that precious control lain to waste in the blink of an eye. Dante being introspective about his abilities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> Theme 15 - Control
> 
> We all know that Dante and Vergil are halfbreeds and that Dante gains his power to DT in DMC3. But does that means that he’s had human strength all his life? I sat and thought about this and decided, nope.

I killed my first human when I was almost four years old. She was my neighbour, used to call her aunt Margaret. She had snow white hair just like Vergil and me, tiny crows-feet by her eyes.

I never meant to do it, but she scared me.

Vergil and I were playing with something in the yard and neither of us heard her coming up from behind. She pounced on me, started tickling me, but I didn’t get that it was that she tried to do. My instincts screamed “attack.” I remember being covered in blood and that my fingertips stuck out on the other side of her, my arm feeling that crushing weight of organs pulsing frantically. Her expression went from surprised to shocked before she fell, dead within the minute. But not without me sitting there, watching the life flow from her eyes, a sickening wheezing sound erupting from her mouth where blood bubbled out.

That day when my other side awakened for the first time I truly learned what it means to be of demonic blood. Of how frail humans are and how much we need to hold back.

Mom probably got quite a few fractured ribs during those years before...  _it_ happened. I don’t remember – no, I don’t  _want_ to remember if we caused her that kind pain. Not even after all these years.

Father stepped in after this “incident.” Took us to be trained in how to act human. Vergil resented it, even though he understood why we need to be careful.

It took me five days to be able to peel an egg. Five days of constant focus and an endless supply of eggs in the kitchen and way too many egg-shells and crushed eggs lying around on the floor, before I managed to peel one without just pushing too hard and squishing it in the process. Needless to say, Vergil and I loathe eggs.

It took one year before our old man let us see mom again. One year before he deemed us in enough control that we wouldn’t just kill her when giving her a hug. And only then after promising him to not ever letting go of that precious control.

I don’t think anyone, save perhaps Vergil, knows how it feels to have to think when shaking someone’s hand and force yourself not to just crush the other person’s hand in the process. Strength, got that in plenty to the point of that even making love to a woman means holding back for fear of breaking her.

It could break a man, having to hold back that much. If it wasn’t for the demon slaying I think I’d have put a gun to my head years ago.

Have I accidentally killed any more humans? Yes. Being startled can still have very nasty side-effects.

Have I hurt people? Yes. Among other things I broke my first girlfriend’s pelvis when having sex. Most guys have to worry about coming too fast. How I wished that was all I had to worry about back then.

One could think that this would discourage me from touching people. But fuck, my best side is my human side. I need touch, to touch other people.

Scratch that last, it sounded weird. But roughly speaking; you know what I mean. Humans are pack-animals, and going solo is not our deal. So, control it is.

Sure, I could hook up with a demon and not give a fuck about control. They can take it. I can too. And sometimes I feel that cutting loose is good. But the pesky thing about demons is that they hate my guts, and eventually they want me dead. So, I stick with my control and practise. Hey - you know what they say; practise makes perfect.


End file.
